


the way the swords clash is the sound of the thunder

by WhiteRose_Is_My_Life



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, But only shown through Felix's POV, Fluff, Fluff but expressed through fighting, Hilda is kind of a little shit but in a good way, It wouldn't be a Felix fic without, Love at first Sword Fight? Absolutely., Love at first sight? No., M/M, Mutual Pining, PTSD kinda, Training as tension, Trauma, and also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25880281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteRose_Is_My_Life/pseuds/WhiteRose_Is_My_Life
Summary: He spun around, ducking and swinging his blade in a wide arc towards Claude’s stomach. Quick as ever though, his strike was blocked by Claude planting his blade in the ground and stopping Felix’s blade dead in its tracks. They locked eyes, and the Regent Lord flashed another grin.Claude straightened back up, spinning around to conceal a strike of his own, but his arm movement betrayed him. Felix placed his blade over his back at the same time he ducked under Claude’s strike, the steel sliding across steel with a grating noise, and Felix aimed a punch at Claude’s midsection, staggering the Regent Lord.“That was dirty.” said Claude, spitting to his side and breathing heavy.“So is combat.” replied Felix, keeping his gaze intent on Claude’s own.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36
Collections: 2020 Ultra Rarepair Big Bang





	the way the swords clash is the sound of the thunder

**Author's Note:**

> hey! im cass! you can find me on twitter @wrcassnessa. this is my Felix/Claude fic for the ultra rarepair big bang, wherein I was the writer and the wonderful and extremely talented @MiidniightSuun on twitter was the artist! a special thanks to the big bang organizers for running this so smoothly, a million kudos to yall. 
> 
> ill level with you. this fic went through stages. at it's rough draft, it was around 11k words and was super cluttered with a bunch of segments that didn't matter. so i decided to scrap it completely and restart and ended up writing the rough draft of this fic, around 8k words, in probably 5 or so days. i then edited it multiple times to make sure i was happy with it, and thats what got sent to the artist. ive gone back and changed a couple minuscule things since then but it's remained mostly the same. this work is the biggest work ive ever just sat down and wrote in just a couple sittings, and im incredibly proud of what I managed to do. 
> 
> i hope all of you enjoy it as much as i do. much love

Felix was hardly a stranger to late nights. He’d figured out long ago that the best time for training alone was late at night when scarcely anyone else was awake, meaning he had the littlest chance of being interrupted. He climbed out of bed after a fruitless attempt at sleep, grabbing his sheath and slinging it over his shoulder. 

He walked into the hall, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the torchlight. He heard no other footsteps, only crickets, leaves rustling in the wind, and his own breaths. 

Felix walked to the training grounds uneventfully, but stopped as soon as he was close. He heard the sounds of training- the clashing of a sword against the training dummy, the harsh but calculated breathing, and the woosh of steel cutting through the night air. Sounds he was all too familiar with. 

_Fuck._ The last thing he needed was a distraction. 

For several moments, he considered heading back to his room and pretending he had it in him to sleep for the next several precious hours until the sun rose. He ultimately decided against it, hoping that whoever was training this early in the morning was somebody tolerable instead of like, Hilda. 

To Felix’s surprise, he found their resident leader, Claude, wiping the sweat from his brow with one hand and holding a broadsword in the other. 

_Careful of the King._

_Careful of the King._

_Careful of the_ -

Felix clapped his hands to his face, his brother’s words fading back into his mind. 

“Fraldarius, if I remember correctly?” asked Claude, clearly having noticed Felix’s late (early?) arrival to the training grounds due to the loud slap. 

“Regent Lord.” replied Felix, acknowledging Claude with the smallest bow. Claude winced slightly at the name, and Felix raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Ah, I suppose that is my title now. It still feels weird to hear from a former classmate, though. Mind calling me Claude?”

“If you promise to never call me by my last name again. Felix is just fine.” responded Felix, sparking Claude’s own clear curiosity. 

“It’s a deal, Felix.” said Claude, smiling. “Sorry if I woke you, I was trying to be as quiet as possible.” 

“You haven’t woken anyone, as far as I know.” 

“Then you couldn’t sleep either, hm?” 

Felix sighed, stepping into the illuminated moonlight of the training grounds and unsheathing his blade. “Something like that.” he replied, holding his sword up to Claude. 

Claude looked down at the blade, and then back to Felix’s gaze (whereupon Felix discovered that the Regent Lord’s eyes were strikingly green. Not that it mattered.)

“Fight me.” Felix said, more of a command than a request. Amusement sparked in Claude’s eyes, and he raised his blade to Felix’s own. 

“Might as well.” he replied, his demure tone betrayed by the grin on his face. “Call it.” 

“There’s no calling it in a real fight!” called Felix, bringing up his left arm to balance his sword on it, swiftly thrusting his blade towards Claude. The Regent Lord dodged his head to the side, the blade missing easily, but Felix continued his advance with another thrust that caused Claude to jump back. 

Claude brought up his sword to his torso, deflecting Felix’s next strike with his own blade. Felix noticed quickly that Claude was on the backfoot, likely trying to learn Felix’s style before committing to any heavy moves. 

Good. Felix would use that against him. 

He spun around, ducking and swinging his blade in a wide arc towards Claude’s stomach. Quick as ever though, his strike was blocked by Claude planting his blade in the ground and stopping Felix’s blade dead in its tracks. They locked eyes, and the Regent Lord flashed another grin. 

Claude straightened back up, spinning around to conceal a strike of his own, but his arm movement betrayed him. Felix placed his blade over his back at the same time he ducked under Claude’s strike, the steel sliding across steel with a grating noise, and Felix aimed a punch at Claude’s midsection, staggering the Regent Lord. 

“That was dirty.” said Claude, spitting to his side. 

“So is combat.” replied Felix, keeping his gaze intent on Claude’s own. 

Claude moved forward quickly, Felix’s blade meeting Claude’s, but the Regent Lord pushed with his momentum and forced Felix on the backfoot. 

Felix used his stagger to spin on his heel, trying for a thrust Claude easily blocks. Felix, not wanting to lose his edge, spun back around to strike again and was once again blocked with Claude’s blade in the ground. Felix smiled, realizing that with Claude’s commitment to the block he wouldn’t have time to raise his sword back up to parry. 

Time to test his reflexes. 

Felix spun around for the last time, aiming a wide slash at Claude’s unguarded side. The Regent Lord ducked the blow but just barely, and Felix moved forward to press his advantage but was met with Claude’s backhand. 

Dazed, Felix placed his blade defensively in front of his body only for Claude to grab his wrist and press his steel to Felix’s own, pushing back until Felix’s back was pressed to the cold stone wall. 

“I think this means I win.” purred Claude, cocky despite the sweat dripping down his body and his ragged breathing. 

“Don’t count me _out_!” said Felix through gritted teeth. He kneed Claude, the momentary shock and pain giving Felix the time to push back Claude’s blade with his own. 

Felix swung hard with his sword, knowing his strike would get blocked but using the momentum to sling his fist at Claude. Unfortunately for him, Claude caught Felix’s fist in his hand, shoving him back hard. 

Claude wiped the sweat from his brow in the moment that followed, causing Felix to rest his sword on his left arm again and move closer. Claude moved with him in sync, both of them circling each other in the middle of the training grounds. 

The Regent Lord tossed his sword from his right hand to his left and then back, both of the men waiting for the other to move. 

Felix moved first, swinging his sword at Claude’s open side. Claude shifted his blade to reverse grip it and moved his whole body right, using his hand facing downward to block Felix’s strike. Claude’s eyes were looking behind himself to meet Felix’s gaze, where the two’s blades and gazes stayed locked for several seconds. 

Then Claude moved, bringing his left arm up to connect with Felix’s hilt and move the swordsman’s blade out of the way and using his other arm to bring his own blade above his head. He slashed downwards- _hard_. Felix recovered quickly enough to block the strike, but had to grip his blade with his offhand to stop the sheer force of Claude’s attack. 

Claude kept pushing, using his superior strength to push Felix’s blade down and down, until he was inches shy of Felix’s shoulder. Using all of his strength, Felix pushed back up against the blade for only a moment, and then shifted his whole body to the side to dodge as Claude’s blade connected with the ground where he had just been. 

He scrambled to his feet quickly, but Claude pressed his advantage, slashing at Felix’s leg and forcing the swordsman to block the strike. In a swift motion, Claude grabbed Felix’s sword arm wrist, holding it in place and squeezing hard until Felix was forced to let go. 

Claude placed his blade to Felix’s neck, and drew in close. 

“I think this means _I win._ ” said Claude. Felix felt the man’s hot breath on his neck, the steady but frequent intake and output making his skin tingle. Claude drew away, tossing his sword on the ground next to Felix’s own and...laughing? 

Happy bellows of laughter echoed through the training room. Claude was pushing up on his legs to keep himself standing up, a full and happy smile across his face. 

“Sorry, sorry- I’m just happy.” explained Claude, and Felix nodded. 

“Anyone would be just after winning a match.” he replied, matter-of-factly. 

“No, it’s not that, it’s more of the fact that you didn’t hold back at all. It’s so rare that someone puts their all into training with me that I’d almost forgotten what it felt like. People don’t want to hurt the future King of Fodlan, so on and so forth. So, thanks for- Felix?” 

_Careful of the King._

_Careful of the King._

_Careful of the King._

Glenn’s dying words rang in his mind like a loud bell. Felix covered his eyes with his hand, clamping his eyes shut as he tried to block out the memory of the blood- there was so much _blood_ -

“Felix? Are you okay?” Claude’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“I’m fine, I-” He was okay. He was safe, in the training grounds, with one of the strongest fighters in Fodlan right here with him. Glenn was gone, and Dimitri was in Faerghus. He was fine. He was _fine._

“...You nearly fainted.” replied Claude, an unsatisfied look on his face. Felix realized, then, that he was sitting in the dirt of the training grounds with Claude at his side. He’d probably fallen, and Claude had probably caught him. 

_Great. Another debt._

“It happens, sometimes, I’m just tired. It was a good fight.” he lied, poorly. Claude clearly saw right through him, pressing the issue. 

“Are you sure you don’t need me to wake up Marianne? I bet she’d be okay with taking a look to make sure you’re ‘fine’.” 

“The very same Marianne who has permanent bags under her eyes and looks like she has one foot in the grave at all moments of the day? I’m sure it’d be a _grand_ idea to wake her from the already small amount of sleep she gets.” 

“Fair point.” Claude conceded, grabbing his sword and standing up. “You should probably join her.” 

“Um.” 

“No, not- I mean that you should also get some sleep, if you’re tired.”

“You shouldn’t tell me what to do.” replied Felix. _It reminds me too much of him_ echoed in his brain, but he bit back the remark. After several long moments of silence, Felix grabbed his own blade, using it to help himself back up to his feet. Claude sheathed his blade and Felix followed suit. 

“We should fight again.” he said, just as they were both about to leave the training grounds. 

“Are you sure?” asked Claude. 

“Well, you said people don’t want to actually fight you because they treat you like a K-” Felix stopped, swallowed. “Like you’re royalty. I don’t care who you are, as long as you have a blade in hand and you’re willing to fight.” 

“Hmm,” Claude looked as though he was actually contemplating the offer. “I’d like that.” Claude said finally.

Felix found that for the first time in a long time, he was able to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He dreamed of crossed swords and surprisingly striking green eyes. 

-

Training together became a common occurrence between the Regent Lord of the Leicester Alliance and Felix of House Fraldarius. Claude was a strong opponent, constantly changing his style to fit the situation and always keep Felix guessing. 

It was infuriating and thrilling at the same time. Every time Felix was close to finally winning, Claude would find a sneaky way to snatch a victory from the jaws of defeat. 

Felix was determined to win.

-

It was only a couple of days after they sparred for the second time when a war council was called. Felix had never attended the routine councils to discuss the petty fights in the street, but his invitation had arrived via a personal request from Claude. After several minutes of deliberation, he decided to show up against his better judgement.

“Claude’s network of spies in both the Kingdom and the Empire reported a large mustering of forces on both sides, but no irregular movement outside of normal patrols.” said a small girl with stark white hair. Felix knew Lysithea von Ordelia, and he’d even go so far as to say he didn’t mind the girl. 

“It’s clear she’s going to make a move, and if we know, then the Boar knows too. No wonder he’s rallying his troops, he’s going to move the second Edelgard does.” Felix said, looming over the war map laid out on the large table in front of him. Most of the table looked at him in confusion. 

“The ‘Boar’?” echoed Claude from the head of the table. 

“I think he means Dimitri.” supplied Lysithea, and Felix gave her a curt nod as thanks.

“Right.” said Claude. “But something still doesn’t quite add up. Why is she rallying now? It’s been nearly five years since her attack on this place and there’s barely been anything but small street squabbles in that time.” 

“Maybe she’s found something that she thinks could turn the tide?” said a tall, green haired, scholarly looking boy from across the table. Felix knew the name of Ignatz Victor, just not too much about him. Still, he may be correct. 

“Mayyyybe, but if that’s the case then what did she find? Sounds kinda scary to me.” Hilda. Very clearly Hilda. No one else had that high-pitched drawl to their voice. 

“Ooh, maybe King Dimitri is holding a special meal hostage, and she really wants to eat!” said a loud, large man standing directly next to Ignatz.

_Careful of the King._

_Careful of the King._

_Careful_

_Careful_

_Careful-_

“None of that _matters_!” Felix slammed his hands on the table. The room fell silent, once again with all eyes on him. 

“What matters is where they’re both going. As I _said_ , wherever Edelgard is going, the Boar will follow. We only need to watch the moves of one army, which will put less stress on the undercover troops and allows us to withdraw some from Faerghus. It’d be stupid to keep them in the line of danger for no reason.” explained Felix, clenching his hand into a fist to try and hide the fact that it was shaking. 

“But wouldn’t we lose a lot of valuable intel if we withdrew most of our spies? They knew the risks when they were deployed, I don’t think they mind the danger.” said a girl he knew to be Leonie Pinelli. She and Felix had trained a number of times, and she was better with a spear than most anybody he’d ever known. He respected her, even if she was wrong. 

“It’s not about them minding the danger, it’s about them being pointlessly in said danger. The Boar only cares about what Edelgard does, so it’d be better to have talented soldiers on the front lines with us rather than stuck away from the battlefield. The ones hiding amongst the common people should be withdrawn, we only need to know about the movements of the army and the Boar.” said Felix. 

“I disagree.” came Claude’s voice, from the head of the table. “Nobody knows the ongoings of a kingdom better than it’s people. Having their favor and intelligence means you hold all the power. You have to consider that especially during a time when the people will be riled up because the troops of said kingdom are gathering, rumors will travel like wildfire.”

Felix hadn’t even thought of that. Although, if he thought about it, Claude was absolutely right. Plus, it was safer for the spies stationed in the common people because it’s easier to slip into a crowd than out of a castle. Claude had come up with his plan immediately after hearing Felix’s own, and had even taken the best interests of the people to heart while doing so.

Claude was unlike any leader Felix had ever known. A small part of Felix suggested that he admired Claude, and Felix stomped out said suggestion with a small shake of his head. 

“So we pull out our spies from Dimitri's castle and barracks, yeah?” asked Leonie, and Claude nodded in response. 

“Send the order.” he said, and she saluted with two fingers. 

“On it!” 

As everyone was shuffling out of the war room, Felix felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He stiffened, turning around rigidly to find the warm face of Claude smiling at him. 

“Thanks for showing up. I appreciate your help, Felix.” said Claude, before tapping his hand lightly and exiting with the rest of the council. 

Felix tried not to think about how warm Claude’s eyes had seemed.

-

After their sparring on what was the sixth time they’d trained together (not that Felix was counting), something caught Felix’s eye. Claude had wiped the sweat from his brow with an embroidered handkerchief bearing a symbol Felix had never seen before. 

“Where did you learn to fight with a sword?” Felix asked, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall. The very same wall, he remembered, that Claude had pinned him to the first time they’d sparred. Claude turned to look at him, confused. 

“The academy, just like everyone else?” he said, and Felix frowned. 

“You don’t fight like any of the teachers or any of the students. Your movements are more flowing than the styles of the Kingdom yet stronger and more rooted than the styles of the Alliance territories.” 

“You pay a lot of attention to swords, don’t you?” asked Claude, grinning.

“I have no magical talent to speak of, spears are best utilized mounted and axes are too heavy and clunky. Of course I pay a lot of attention to the only thing I’m good at.” Felix replied, still scowling. 

“Do you really think the only thing you’re good at is swordplay?” 

“I’m not an idiot, Claude.” Felix scoffed. “I’m a good swordsman and that’s all I want to be. I don’t have any stupid grand dreams or oversized shoes I’m trying to fill- as long as I have a sword and an enemy, I have a purpose.” 

“...You’re not talking about you. Who’s got ‘stupid grand dreams’ or ‘oversized shoes to fill’?” 

“And you’re deflecting. You didn’t tell me where you learned to fight.” 

“I did, you just don’t believe me.” Claude replied simply, not meeting Felix’s eyes.

“I don’t have time for this.” Felix said, scowling. He slung his blade over his shoulder and left the training grounds with a huff. Somehow, he could feel Claude’s eyes following him as he went. He could imagine them, too, the same sad eyes that so rarely matched Claude’s mostly carefree disposition. 

Not that he cared either way. If Claude wasn’t going to be up front and honest with him, then Claude wasn’t worth talking to beyond sparring. Felix had no time for yet another enigma wrapped in a mystery, especially not with the threat of war approaching more and more rapidly with each passing day. 

-

Several days had passed since Felix had walked out on their last training session when he heard a knock at the door if his room. He opened it to find a very pink woman standing just outside his doorway. 

“You should probably go see Claude.” said Hilda, inspecting her nails. 

“Am I being summoned by the Regent Lord?” Felix asked starkly, and Hilda frowned. 

“This is what I get for going out of my way to be helpful. Everyone around here is so _dramatic_ , you know? Anyway, just go train with him. I know he wants you to.” she said, not giving Felix time to respond before walking away. 

Several seconds passed before Felix moved, but he eventually grabbed his scabbard and walked off towards the training grounds. At the very least, Claude was a good fight, if nothing else. 

When he arrived, Claude was already practicing on his own, but not with a longsword. Both the handle and the blade of the sword Claude was wielding was curved, and he was only using one hand for most of his strikes. Despite this, all his hits on the training dummy looked just as strong as the time they’d last fought. 

Completely forgetting the fact that he’d been upset with Claude, Felix quickly made his way up to the Regent Lord. 

“What’s that sword?” he asked, pointing to Claude’s blade. 

“I had a feeling you might show.” replied Claude, very much not answering Felix’s question. “Did Hilda send you?”

“She came to my door and told me to come train with you. What’s that sword?” 

“She can be meddlesome like that. And this,” Claude said, swinging his blade in a downward arc, his whole body moving in time with his strike, “is a scimitar. It’s one of the weapons I grew up training with.” 

“So you did get trained elsewhere than the academy. You _lied._ ” said Felix, scowling. 

“Not technically. I did learn to fight with a standard broadsword here, and I hadn’t learned that blade before attending the academy. I just withheld some of the truth.” explained Claude, not meeting Felix’s eyes. 

“Withholding the truth is still lying.” 

“Maybe it is. I’m sorry for lying, in that case.”

“Sorry doesn’t matter. Why’d you lie to me?” Felix asked.

Claude sighed. “The scimitar originated on the backs of dragon riders. The curved blade makes it easier to swing while mounted and having a wider arc of attack makes it harder to miss your target when swooping down for a kill. After a while, a style of using a scimitar on foot was developed by one of the finest swordmasters in Almyra and became quite commonplace for the soldiers there.” 

“You’re Almyran.” said Felix, coming to the immediate and obvious conclusion. Claude was intentionally looking away from him, focused entirely on the movements of his own body and blade. 

“Born and raised. Though my mother was from Fodlan originally, which is where the Riegan blood and crest comes from. Surprise.” 

“That’s not an answer as to why you lied, Claude.” 

“Is it not? You’re not stupid, Felix, you’ve said so yourself. You know exactly how Almyrans are typically treated in Fodlan. I didn’t want you to- I don’t know, actually. I wasn’t sure how you’d react, so I decided on not telling you.” Claude explained. “Until now, I guess.”

“That’s foolish.” said Felix, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. 

“Felix-” started Claude, finally turning to face him, but Felix kept going. 

“You being an Almyran doesn’t change anything about you. You’re still a good fighter, but more than that, you’re still our leader. Does being an Almyran hinder your abilities on or off the battlefield?” 

“No.” 

“Then I never would’ve cared, and you’ve wasted both our time that we could’ve spent training.” Felix said, still glaring. 

Silence fell over the two of them in the seconds that followed, but it seemed like Claude was doing his best to try and suppress a smile. He chuckled, trying to stop himself from bursting out laughing to no avail. 

Felix noticed that his eyes had the same warm glow that he’d gotten used to, and things felt okay again. 

“Cmon, we clearly have time to waste.” said Claude, wiping happy tears from his eyes and assuming a stance with his blade. “What’d you say the first time? Wasn’t it just ‘Fight me’?” 

Felix lost again that night. 

He didn’t mind too much. 

-

Claude missed their training. Claude had never once missed their training since they’d started training together every week. Worry started to creep slowly into Felix’s mind as more and more time passed without the Regent Lord showing up to the training grounds. 

Half annoyed and half worried, Felix angrily slung his scabbard over his shoulder and walked out of the training grounds and towards Claude’s room. He told himself he was just going to check if Claude was alright and then go to bed.

He knocked three times, and waited. He didn’t hear any sound from inside the room, so it was possible that Claude had just fallen asleep. That would make sense, he was the Regent Lord and spent most of his time trying to handle a turbulent political climate in the Alliance and the ever increasing threat of all-out war between the Kingdom and the Empire. 

Several more seconds passed, and Felix turned to leave. If Claude needed to sleep, he wasn’t going to interrupt him. 

But then Claude’s door opened. Claude looked tired, but the edges of his lips curved slightly when he saw Felix. 

“Ah. Just the man I was about to go find.” said Claude, and Felix arched an eyebrow. 

“Why did you say that as though we weren’t training tonight?” Felix asked.

“Right, that’s today. It seems I lost track of what day it was.” 

“That’s not like you.” 

Claude smiled. “I’ve had a lot on my plate. Unfortunately not physically.”

“If you forgot we were training, then why were you about to come find me?” 

“...You should come in.” said Claude, standing to the side of the entrance to his room to allow Felix passage. Felix narrowed his eyes at the Regent Lord but walked in anyway, leaning on the wall next to the doorway. Quickly, he surveyed Claude’s room. 

It wasn’t much different from his own. An unmade bed in the right corner and a simple desk facing the door in the left. Claude had several bows hung on display on his right wall, and what looked to be a harness far too large for a human on the floor. 

On Claude’s desk, windowsill, and on parts of his floor were scattered books and papers, far too many to just be a hobby. This, Felix supposed, was the life of a Regent Lord. 

“Most of our messenger birds returned to the Monastery today.” explained Claude, taking a seat in the chair at his desk. 

“So? That happens every week.” 

“Generally, yes. Most of the time they’re reports or documents from the Alliance, or something from our spies or troops on the front lines. Today, however, something else was found amongst the litter of birds, more specifically one that was not one of our own.” Claude paused, as though he was waiting. 

“Get on with it.” said Felix, and Claude shuffled around his papers to grab a rather nice looking envelope. He held it out towards Felix. 

“A Faerghus bird delivered this envelope signed with the wax seal of the crown, addressed directly to you. It could be a trap, it could not. Whatever you want done with it is up to you.” Claude explained.

Felix moved to Claude’s desk and grabbed the envelope harshly. “It’s not a trap, the Boar is too stupid for that.” he said, but even so his hands shook. It’d been so long since he’d seen the Lion of Faerghus royalty that he’d almost forgotten what the seal looked like. 

He’d almost forgotten the tattered banners bearing that very seal laying in the streets, some covered in blood and others partially burned. 

He’d almost forgotten the seal on Glenn’s armor and weapon, the seal that had been covered in his own brother’s blood. 

_Careful of the King._

_Careful of the King._

_Care-_

Felix slammed his eyes shut, tearing open the envelope with his hands. When he opened his eyes, he saw that all that was inside the envelope was a letter. He unfolded it and began reading the words, barely recognizing Dimitri’s handwriting, but he knew it was the Boar that had written it. The tone was unmistakably Dimitri. 

Rage built within Felix at every word, and only exemplified when he finished reading and realized that it had been signed by not only the Boar but Sylvain, Ingrid, and his own father as well. 

How dare they? 

How _dare_ they? He-

“Felix? Are you alright?” Claude’s voice cut through his anger, giving Felix a sturdy thing to focus on. He inhaled sharply, exhaled. Inhale, exhale. 

“He wants me to return to the Kingdom before the war begins.” Felix said, barely restraining the disdain in his voice. 

“Why?” asked Claude, and Felix froze. Not a ‘are you going to?’ or an assumption that Felix was going to begrudgingly accept this offer. Just a simple question of why Dimitri wanted him to return, as though Claude was confident that Felix had no intention of going. Claude had _faith_ in him. 

When was the last time anyone had had faith in _him_?

“Because the Boar thinks I have some kind of innate duty to serve the Kingdom I was born in because of my family name. Because my useless father serves, so must I. They’re all fools if they think I’m going to just come at their beck and call to die for ‘chivalry’ or ‘duty’ or any other completely meaningless terms that they use to justify dying for nothing.” 

“Felix…?” 

_Please be careful of the future King, little brother...I worry about what this will do to him...what this will make him. Watch over him, okay, Fel? Prom- Promise…_

“We could’ve run and hid. When Faerghus was attacked, we could’ve run and hid but Glenn said he had a duty to his Kingdom and all it got him was an axe in the stomach.” continued Felix, unable to stop the tears brimming in his eyes. “Following their duties to the Kingdom got Dimitri’s parents killed for nothing, turning him into a barely restrained beast. Following their duties to the Kingdom was the justification the knights gave when they slaughtered thousands of innocent Duscurians!” 

Felix’s mind felt turbulent. He was so angry, so sad, so lost and he just- 

Strong arms wrapped themselves around Felix, steadying his shaking body and giving him something to cling to. Felix gave in, all restraint left by the wayside as he dug his hands into Claude’s clothes, clutching onto the Regent Lord like his life depended on it. 

“I’m here.” said Claude, just a simple reassurance that Felix wasn’t alone- that Felix didn’t have to bear everything on his own. Felix cried into Claude’s shoulder for some time, but through it all, Claude remained a staunch quiet reassurance. 

“I’m never going back. Never.” whispered Felix, sniffling to try and regain his composure. 

“You’ll never have you. You have a place here, with us, and with me. Always.” Claude replied softly, hoisting Felix gently off the ground so Claude could sit on his bed without disturbing the Swordsman too much. 

Felix awoke the next morning to discover that he’d never made it back to his room that night, and that he and Claude had fallen asleep in each other’s arms accidentally. After pulling some of the covers on Claude’s bed over the sleeping Regent Lord, he grabbed the crumpled note from the ground and tossed it in the first torch he saw on the way back to his own room. 

It felt good.

-

Claude had called Felix into the war room several days later via the word of a soldier, and Felix had made his way there quickly. 

“I assume there’s news?” asked Felix, closing the large doors behind him. 

“Bad news.” Claude confirmed, pointing at the map. “The whole of the Kingdom’s army is en route toward Bergliez territory. A significantly smaller subsection of the Empire’s army being led by Edelgard is also marching that way.” 

“So the Kingdom destroys the smaller army and takes its leader either dead or alive. Knowing Edelgard, probably dead. Bergliez territory is Empire territory though, and if the Kingdom wins the war, then nobody comes marching our way. What’s bad about that?” 

“Do you know what happens to worms when it rains, Felix?” asked Claude, looking down at the map. 

“What does that have to do with this war?” Felix snipped, but his eyes betrayed his curiosity. 

“When it rains, worms are pushed out of their homes in the dirt and they end up on our roads and our sidewalks- they end up displaced. Do you know what happens to them then?”

“Are you going somewhere with this or do you just enjoy rambling about bird food?” 

Claude laughed, grim. “When the worms are pushed out of their homes they’re trampled by humans, devoured by ants- and as you so graciously mentioned, birds- with no way to defend themselves or stop others of their kind from dying and that’s, well…” He pointed to the Empire. “That’s exactly what’ll happen to the innocent citizens if we let our resident Boar King march on Enbarr. Which means our only chance is to stop him at-“ 

“-Gronder. Bergliez Territory.” finished Felix, now all too aware of what was to come. 

“Unfortunately. Tell Leonie to rally our troops, we need to be on the move fast if we want to catch the conflict and stop either side from trampling the other.” said Claude, and Felix nodded. 

He would stop the Boar, and he would do so at Claude’s side. 

-

The march to Gronder Field was quick and efficient. With Claude and Leonie’s direction and inspiration, the troops moved, ate, slept, and repeated like a well-oiled machine. Based on information from their messenger birds, they were on par with the armies of the Kingdom and Empire, which made Claude exceptionally pleased and by extension made Felix crack a smile every now and then. 

“The future of Fodlan rests on tomorrow.” said Claude, sitting in his tent with Felix the night before they would arrive at Gronder. 

“Do you think we’ll win?” asked Felix, staring at the flickering flame of the candlelight. 

“Do we have a choice?” 

No, they didn’t, and they both knew it. If they failed, the Kingdom’s much larger army would march straight to the Empire and he could only assume what would happen if that came to pass. 

“Felix, I want to entrust you with command of the western troops tomorrow.” said Claude, and Felix turned to look at him with surprise. 

“Why in hell would you do that? I’m not exactly the commander type, if you haven’t noticed.” 

“I’ve noticed a lot, actually. You’re smart, fierce, calculated, and above all you’re kind. You have all the qualities I desire in a commander.” explained Claude, that easy smile on his face that he wore so well. The light of the candles danced in his eyes when he looked at Felix, his full attention directed at him. 

“I…” 

“Am so much more than just a good swordsman? Glad we’re on the same page.” finished Claude, and Felix averted his gaze. He could only stand the striking but comforting green of Claude’s eyes for so long before his mind drifted to thoughts of what it would be like to see those eyes ever closer. 

“What about Leonie?” he asked, a weak defense. There’s no way that Claude would’ve asked him to lead any troops without thinking about the Regent Lord’s own second-in-command.

“Leonie has been tasked with capturing the hill in the middle of the battlefield, and I’m leading troops towards Edelgard on the eastern front.” 

“That’s too far away,” said Felix immediately, and Claude quirked an eyebrow. “I mean, it’s silly to give Leonie the task of capturing the hill when you have a wyvern platoon and could immediately bypass the ground troops and capture it easily. Don’t waste the time or lives of your army. Don’t be a stupid leader.”

“Heh. For a second there, I almost thought you were worried about _me_ .” said Claude, and Felix’s restraint fell away. Felix _was_ worried about him, and he just- he didn’t understand, so Felix would make him understand. 

Felix reached over, grabbing a fistful of Claude’s shirt just under his throat and pulled him close, slotting their lips together messily. He felt Claude’s surprised tense and then happy relaxation, the Regent Lord leaning into the kiss easily, as though it was natural. 

Felix broke the kiss just as quickly as he’d started it, pulling away slowly and avoiding Claude’s gaze once again. 

“Please be safe tomorrow.” he said quietly, voice just above a whisper. 

“Don’t worry,” replied Claude, grabbing Felix’s hand gently. “I won’t let anything happen to either of us. I promise.”

Felix slept easily that night, with the constant thought of how soft Claude’s lips were. 

-

He led his troops into battle with relative ease. They were well disciplined and responded to his directions quickly and efficiently. They crossed the river separating them from the west side of Gronder without any problems and without losing any men, and were en route to capture the west side even before Leonie had fought through the east. 

From the middle of the battlefield, a bright white wyvern flew in front of a whole squadron of wyvern riders, raining down a hail of arrows and hand-axes upon the Empire forces, and Felix watched Claude capture the hill easily. 

Everything was going well, and they were so close to stopping this war in it’s tracks before it had a chance to irreparably damage Fodlan. They were winning, and Felix was happy. 

And then Sylvain showed up. Bright red hair flew in the wind as Sylvain led a troop on horse-back straight towards Felix’s soldiers. From the sky, a platoon of Pegasus knights led by a familiar blonde-haired rider descended upon the back of Felix’s army, effectively trapping him and his troops between two squads.

He called for a retreat, tried to help his troops get away while he fought off his former friends, but in the end it was hopeless. The last thing Felix saw before the end of the battle was Claude’s stark white wyvern, flying above it all, wholly unaware of Felix’s failure. 

“You promised…” Felix whispered, his vision fading to black. 

-

When Felix awoke, he was laying on a soft bed with nice sheets. He sat up immediately, reaching for his sword that he always kept beside his bed, only to find that it wasn’t there. 

“Ah, my son. You’re finally awake.” Felix knew that voice. He looked up to find the gentle face of Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius smiling at him. 

“Where am I?” Felix asked, voice still thick with sleep. 

“You’re at home, Felix. You’re finally back home.”

“How did I get here?” 

“During the battle-” Rodrigue began, but then Felix remembered. The battle, his troops, Sylvain and Ingrid cutting off his attack from all sides, _Claude-_

“What happened to my men?” Felix asked harshly, cutting off his father. In hindsight, it didn’t matter how he’d gotten here. All that mattered was if they’d won, if they’d pushed back Dimitri and Edelgard, and if his soldiers had survived. 

“When you fell, Margrave Gautier allowed their surrender. They were taken along with you when the Kingdom retreated.” said his father, and Felix exhaled. His men were alive, and the Kingdom retreated from the fight, which means Claude and Leonie had managed to push them back. They had won. 

“So what’s your plan now? Ransom me back, or am I to be held here as your prisoner?” 

“Prisoner? Felix, you’re at home. Drink some water and calm down.” said Rodrigue, gesturing at a glass on his bedside table. “You’re not being _held_ anywhere.”

“Then I’m leaving.” he said, moving to stand up and walk out. The guards standing at the doorway tensed, and Felix knew immediately what the outcome of this attempt would be. 

“Unfortunately,” began Rodrigue, swallowing and looking away. “I am under orders from the crown not to allow you to leave just yet. But you are free to walk the grounds of our estate and even allowed to wander the kingdom as long as I accompany you.” 

“And you’ve chosen allegiance to the Boar over your own son. I shouldn’t be surprised.” 

“What do you want me to do, Felix? I have a duty to my King and my Kingdom, as do you, and even if you decide to ignore yours, I will not.” Rodrigue said, raising his voice. 

“This idiotic sense of ‘duty to Faerghus’ lost you one of your sons, and you’re willing to let it lose you the second. You’re a fool.” replied Felix, glaring daggers at his father. Rodrigue said nothing, meeting Felix’s gaze for several seconds before standing up. 

“Do not think of trying to leave through your window. I have stationed guards both on the ground and in the towers.” he said, leaving the room without another word. 

“Get out.” Felix growled at the guards. 

“Your father has-” 

“I said _get out_!” yelled Felix, grabbing the glass of water and throwing it as hard as he could at the door. It shattered to pieces, the water seeping into the wooden door as the shards fell to the ground. 

They nodded silently, and left to stand guard outside his door instead of inside. 

As soon as they left, Felix crumpled to his knees and cried. Not even his own father cared enough about him to defy a naive sense of duty, and the only people who did care about him most likely thought him dead. 

He hoped Claude wasn’t too upset. 

Sleep overtook Felix once more, and he dreamed of the last night he’d spent with Claude. His soft lips and even softer eyes.

-

Days had passed. Weeks, maybe. Felix wasn’t sure how much time; he’d scarcely left the room since being captured. He’d rejected all attempts for Rodrigue to see him, and barely said a word to anyone. Sylvain and Ingrid had come by and knocked on his door, but Felix refused them as well. He had no desire to speak with any of them. 

Every day he trained in his room to the best of his ability. He had to keep his skills sharp because even if there was such a minuscule chance of escape, if he saw a single opening, he’d take it immediately. 

Panting after training, Felix wiped the sweat from his brow and closed his eyes, remembering a time when Claude would’ve been directly opposite him sword in hand, all smiles and soft green eyes. His mind drifted to the thoughts of Claude's strong hand clapping him on the shoulder affectionately, the way Claude would be so careful not to overstep physical boundaries and yet still feel like he was as close as one could be. Tears welled in his eyes at the memory, but he willed himself to stop. He wouldn't cry, not again, not until he'd found a way out- a way _back._

And then he heard yelling. 

The faintest sounds of something happening, people shuffling around in the city in the dead of night, as the moon was high in the sky. 

His door burst open seconds later, an out of breath guard in his doorway. 

“Your father has requested you come with me immediately,” the guard said, ragged. “We need to get you somewhere safe until this riot blows over.” 

“There’s a riot?” asked Felix, eyes wide. 

“Please, come with me, we haven’t much- Agh!” A gloved hand appeared on the guard’s shoulder, pulling him back into the hallway with a loud thud. A glove Felix recognized, the armored hide of the hand specific to the Knights of Gautier. The red haired Marquess entered his room, and gave him a small smile. 

"Found him!" called Sylvain, and Felix's hand gripped tightly on his blade. 

"What do you want?" growled Felix, drawing his sword ever so slightly. 

"I'm not here to hurt you, I swear. I'm actually, kind of, committing treason for you?" he explained, but Felix didn't drop his guard. He had no reason to trust him no matter how genuine he seemed. "Fel, I want to apologize for so much. I do, but I can't right now, so just know that I care about you and our friendship more than I care about this godforsaken country." 

"Why should I trust you? You brought me here!" 

"I did," admitted Sylvain. "Look, I've gotta go make sure my wife hasn't been caught yet and you have a Regent Lord who's here to break you out. I'm sorry again, Fel. I hope we see each other again someday as friends." Sylvain said, giving a half-hearted wave before running back out into the hallway. 

_A Regent Lord..._

“Claude.” he breathed, moments before the Regent Lord stood in his doorway. Claude ran towards Felix, catching him in a bear hug just as the tears began to fall uncontrollably from Felix’s face. 

“You’re late.” Felix said, his face nestled in the crook of Claude’s neck. 

“I would’ve been here sooner had Leonie not stopped me from getting on my wyvern and searching all of Faerghus to find you the second we realized you went missing.” Claude explained. “We needed a plan, and when our spies reported talk from a local tavern that a whole troop of captured enemy soldiers had been taken directly to the inner-city’s prisons, I had one of them disguise as a guard. When they couldn’t find you, I assumed the worst.

“But one of our spies reported overhearing a conversation between two patrons about a friend of theirs named Felix refusing to see them, even though they took the time to go all the way to his family’s estate. As soon as I got that messenger bird, I set a plan in motion as soon as possible to break everyone out as safely as possible.” Claude let go of Felix gently, softly pushing Felix back. 

“As much as I’d like to stay here, we need to get everyone out before they realize we staged a riot.” Claude said, moving to Felix’s window and kicking it open. After releasing a loud whistle, the sound of beating wings grew ever closer until a large white wyvern was idling outside. Claude reached out his hand, and Felix took it easily to climb on the back with him. 

“You staged a riot?” Felix asked, arms around Claude’s waist as he held on for dear life. 

“Remember when I told you that if you have the people’s favor you hold all the power? Well, all we needed was for our spies and your friends to plant the seeds in people’s minds that unrest during wartime might throw off royal restrictions. Instead of actually rioting, the people are faking it with the goal of getting better amenities from the crown in order to stop it."

"My friends?" Felix echoed. 

"Sylvain and Ingrid. They're quite the little masterminds, and in secret contact with me, we hatched a plan to help you escape without outing either of them. Ingrid was distracting the Crown and his attendees, while Sylvain and I snuck into the mansion to look for you." Claude explained, and Felix's heart felt strained. He wanted to see them, to thank them, to yell at them and ask them why. 

_'I hope we see each other someday as friends.'_ Sylvain had said, and Felix decided that he'd be at least willing to hear them out in due time. 

Felix shook his head, clearing his thoughts and smiling. “Only you could stage a prison break and a fake riot all while bettering a country at the same time." he said.

“I’ll take that as praise.” said Claude, grinning. 

“It _was_ praise, you fool.” Felix said, but even he was smiling as the city grew ever smaller behind them. Soon enough, the only noise was Claude’s steady breathing and the flap of the wyvern’s wings. 

“So we won at Gronder,” Felix said, breaking the silence. “What’s next?” 

“Next?” Claude turned, looking back at Felix with a grin. “Next, we end this war. Together.”

As they flew off into the night, Felix thought that was a future he could find a place in. A place, preferably, next to Claude. 

“When we get back, we should train.” he said, and Claude laughed. An easy, happy sound. 

“Only you could be rescued from what was effectively a prison and want to train as soon as you get back home.” 

“Are you training with me or not?” 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you all so much for reading. i hope you liked it! you can find me on twitter @wrcassnessa and feel free to tell me your thoughts, good, bad, or otherwise. another big thank you to everyone involved, including my friends who had to sit through me complaining about how hard I think writing is despite pursuing a career in writing. I cant thank all of you enough.


End file.
